Incarceration in Oconee County: A Personal Account

Become informed about corruption in the Oconee County Detention Center! The full story can be found further down.

In June 2024, I found myself behind bars in the Oconee County Jail for the second time. My so-called crime? Filming in public to hold our government accountable. But this article isn’t about the corruption that put me there—it's about what I experienced inside those walls.

During my 30-day stay, I witnessed firsthand how the system is designed not for rehabilitation, but for degradation. The conditions were appalling: exorbitant phone call costs that drained the finances of loved ones, insufficient and unhealthy food, and a complete lack of professional development or recovery programs. Prisoners were left to survive, mentally and physically, in a system that seemed to delight in breaking them down.

Health and hygiene were afterthoughts, with broken drinking fountains and leaking sinks leaving us with only shower water to drink. Dental care was nearly non-existent—many had to let their teeth rot or be pulled. This was not just neglect; it was a deliberate strategy to strip us of our dignity.

One particularly striking moment came when I learned that a book my mother had sent to me was withheld by the jail. The book, Leadership and Self-Deception by The Arbinger Institute, is a guide to personal growth and overcoming challenges—exactly what someone in my position needed. But the jail determined it was "Not Approved." A book meant to empower and inspire was "not allowed". The message was clear: anything that could help prisoners improve themselves was seen as a threat to the system. This is a system designed not to rehabilitate, but to perpetuate a cycle of dehumanization and control. What better way to keep the jail full then to make use the current customers return?

My time in the Oconee County Jail opened my eyes to the systemic injustices that persist within our correctional system. The experience only strengthened my resolve to fight against this corruption, not just for myself, but for everyone trapped in this broken system. By sharing these experiences, I hope to shed light on the injustices within our jails and push for the reforms needed to create a system that truly serves justice and upholds human dignity.

Full Story

On June 17, 2024, I was sentenced to 50 days in the Oconee County Jail. This was my second time being incarcerated there for the same offense: videotaping in public to hold our government accountable. My incarceration is symptomatic of the corruption within Oconee County, SC, but that’s not the focus of this article.

During my time in jail, I began to realize just how tyrannical the system truly is. While many of the guards enjoy acting like tyrants, there’s a deeper systemic problem. The policymakers behind the scenes are crafting policies designed to break people. There’s no hint of recovery or professional development programs. Prisoners use all their favors just to survive, both mentally and physically.

The Cost to Those That Care

Phone calls are exorbitantly expensive. For inmates to talk to their children and families, those on the outside must pay the jail. The food in jail is not only of poor quality but also insufficient in quantity. There are vending machines and a weekly commissary where prisoners can spend money to supplement their diets with unhealthy alternatives to the atrocious daily meals. This money usually comes from someone on the outside who cares. The vending machine food is overpriced, with ramen noodles costing over a dollar for prisoners, while they cost just $0.15 in a grocery store. Being in jail imposes a financial burden on everyone who cares about the prisoner. By the time of their release, most people have exhausted any financial favors they may have had.

Bad Habits are Promoted

Breakfast is served at 5:30 a.m., and by 6:00, most of the men I was housed with are back asleep. There’s no reason to stay awake. The handball court, where there is a window and people can walk and talk without disturbing the sleepers, doesn’t even open until 7 or 8, depending on which guard you ask. During this time, I would either work on my lawsuit against the county or workout. Lunch is served at 10 a.m., and it’s around this time that the TV is turned on. We were over 60 men living in one room with about 40 bunk beds. Many slept on the floor. The acoustics of the place were like a parking structure’s stairwell—sound traveles to all corners. The TV had blown-out speakers, and the volume was usually turned up past the point of incomprehensible distortion and left on all day.

Health and Hygiene Issues

Many people had serious health conditions, and there was a nurse who could be seen upon request. However, it took patience, and the nurse’s resources were limited. Medications were handed out twice a day, with separate visits for diabetics. I’ll never forget one of the medication deliveries. The drinking water fountain hadn’t worked for about a week. Many of us had put in formal and informal requests to have it fixed. Without the drinking water fountain, all that was available to drink was the oddly colored hot water from the hand washing sink. Then, the handwashing station started leaking on the floor, so the prison shut it off the water to it. The only water we had left was from the shower.

We had no place to wash our hands or get drinking water. The only option for water was to get wet or hand a cup to someone in the shower. Occasionally, on some days, there were “cool” guards who would leave a cooler of cold water. The cooler was old. It leaked onto the floor, making some work for the prisoners, but it was an appreciated break from the dirty hot water. Most of the guards said the cooler couldn’t be left in the room for safety reasons.

It was under these conditions that the nurse entered to deliver meds on this unforgettable day—without a place to wash hands or get drinking water. When people complained, the guard escorting the nurse, Caleb, said that prisoners had plenty of saliva, so there was no problem. Caleb, the one we call “Super Trooper,” is a product of this system. I asked Caleb if he would apologize for his tyrannical remarks. He said he absolutely would not.

Lack of Dental Care

There’s no real dental care in this prison. Many people are locked up in this jail for over a year. I did see a few people get their teeth pulled, but that seemed to be the only option—get it pulled or let it rot. One man finally broke under the pain and had his tooth pulled. He had been hoping to make it until he got out so he could have it fixed and maintain his appearance.

Additionally, there’s no dental floss. I lived for many days with things caught between my teeth. I put in multiple requests and complaints about dental floss. Many in the jail say the plan is to rot the prisoners’ teeth so they can be discredited in front of the judge. This seems logical given all the other atrocities. A man slipped and was injured badly from the water that pours out on the floor whenever people take showers. The prison does not care if elderly men have a safe place to shower and they act like dental floss and writing utensils are not allowed for the safety of the prisoners. The real reason is to prevent self-care and professional growth.

Support from the Outside

I was one of the fortunate ones. My wife put $200 on my books, and Kyle, a protester who came to support me, added another $100. I was able to supplement my diet and be generous with this money. When I made calls, I called my wife for comfort and to work on my legal defense for my pending hearings. She spent almost $500 on phone calls. We probably talked for an hour each day. Without her, my time there would have been much harder. My 30-day incarceration cost almost $800 in outside money. (I was released after 30 day in an emergency hearing)

My wife did the hard work of caring for our family and maintaining my professional and social relationships while I was locked up. She is an incredible woman. Early in my stay, she told me that my mom had sent a book via Amazon, as the jail had directed her to do. My Mom is a great woman, and my unjust incarceration was as hard on her as anyone. Her efforts to send a gesture of care and hope were denied by the Oconee jail. They would not let me have the book while incarcerated.

I was given the book upon my release. The jail had held the book because they determined it was “Not Approved.” When my wife called the jail on behalf of my mom to find out why, she was told that if the book was religious, it would be allowed. The book my mom sent was Leadership and Self-Deception by The Arbinger Institute. I haven’t read it yet. I would have had the time in jail, but I’ve been playing catch-up for the last three weeks since I’ve been out. I’ve read the cover and reviews—it seems the book is designed to help people facing challenges in their lives. This book clearly contradicts the goals of the jail.

A Clearer Vision

After being locked up in the Oconee County Detention Center for a couple of weeks, I gained a clearer vision. The tyrannical nature of the guards, the poor food, the lack of facility maintenance, the all-day noise that prevents peace and clarity of thought, the lack of health care, the barriers to healthy relationships with family and friends, and all the other humanitarian atrocities imposed on the prisoners are part of a larger plan. I believe that if they could, they would give methamphetamine to the inmates to help destroy their health, self-worth, habits, and ability to hold a job. This place makes money when it’s full and desperate people are easy to control and discredit.

This is not Survival of the Fittest

It’s important to note that there’s a clear code among the prisoners that makes the time incarcerated bearable. Theft almost never happens because it’s not accepted by the social leaders. This group of men takes care of themselves. This group of men, me included, is flawed, but together we are much stronger. There’s an essential feature of this group that is supported by the jail. The prisoners can have people removed from the open cell area (bunk beds in an open room) by requesting their removal to the guards.

I saw people removed for things like owing others money, stealing on the outside, a history of threatening women, and one who said people would die in the night. During an early morning church session held in the handball court, a new guy who had been put in the night before started talking about demons and how people would die in the night. When we walked out of the handball court into the space where everyone was sleeping, and many can hear, I kept him talking. He repeated his ridiculous remarks. Pat got out of bed, came downstairs, escorted the man to the door, pushed the call button, and had the man removed at about 9 a.m.

A System Designed to Break People

Some prisoners work in the kitchen for no pay, but they get a schedule and time out of the cell. One of the kitchen workers, John, returned from the lunch shift saying that Caleb (a.k.a. Super Trooper) said he had bet that the man would not get thrown out until 5 p.m. That’s right—the guards put this man, who was claiming people would die in the night, into the open cell population with bets on how long it would take for the prisoners to request his removal. The reason for incarceration is not relevant to these trained tyrants. The lives of the prisoners are used to create jobs and ensure that only the right faces are seen at Jazz Fest. My bet is that, outside of euthanasia, the pound treats dogs better.

The Reality of Release

Many prisoners are released after using all their favors, with no money or transportation, no housing or job, and the habits of an incarcerated person. This last point cannot be emphasized enough. In the Oconee jail, the habit for the large majority is to sleep as much as possible to help the time pass, socialize while walking in circles, watch TV, and maybe play cards. How is a person supposed to walk out of this type of conditioning, with these limited resources, and not be dispirited and desperate?

The people in charge of filling and running this jails are completely disconnected from the reality of the people who live in it, and there is no interest in learning. The ivory tower in Oconee County is tall and has a wide view. The people living in the Ivory Tower are eager to spend tax dollars to keep the unwashed out of sight. I approached Seneca City Manager, Mr. Scott Moulder, about diverting funds to professional development and other programs to lower the reincarceration rate. I visited Scott between my 10-day sentence, which I spent entirely in solitary confinement, and my 30-day stint in the open cell population. I was free for 10 days. I have not heard back from Scott. It seems to me that professional development in the jail, or a plan to prevent incarceration in the first place, goes against the county’s plan to maintain the view from the Oconee Ivory Tower.

A Final Note

I’ll end with two thoughts. First, some guards do try to care. However, if they try too hard, I’m confident they’ll be removed or incarcerated. Injustice is everywhere, and in Oconee County, if you stand up to injustice, they’ll lock you up. This means that to work here, a guard, at a minimum, needs to be complicit. Second, the demographic of prisoners is diverse in some ways and narrow in others. The cops know who they can lock up without complications. Those with resources aren’t kept for long because lawyers and judges agree. With this, many of the prisoners have incredible talents, hold good conversations, and are genuine in their actions. I met many men I pray are free and doing well

My time in the Oconee County Jail opened my eyes to the inhumane conditions and systemic injustices that persist within our correctional system. The experience reinforced my belief that the system is not designed to rehabilitate, but rather to dehumanize and profit from those it incarcerates. The lack of basic necessities, the mental and emotional toll, and the intentional barriers to maintaining relationships with loved ones all serve to break down individuals rather than build them up. This system thrives on perpetuating cycles of incarceration, leaving those without resources trapped in a vicious cycle. As I move forward, I remain committed to advocating for change, not just for myself but for everyone who has been, or will be, subjected to this broken system empowered through the corruption of Oconee County. It is my hope that by shedding light on these injustices, we can push for reform and create a system that truly serves justice, supports rehabilitation, and respects the dignity of every individual.